


Nip Her in the Bud

by Jetti



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetti/pseuds/Jetti
Summary: Hannibal does not trust that Abigail will behave, despite their shared secret. He cannot allow her to leave.





	Nip Her in the Bud

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic I started writing in 2011. I do not think I will continue it.

“Abigail, tell me about your schooling,” Dr. Lecter said as he poured wine into her glass.

“Not much to tell, really. Online classes don’t really give me the full college experience…” she responded in a bitter tone. 

“I think I should get away, somewhere people don’t look at me and see the daughter of a monster, or his assistant. I could change my name, my hair style, not everyone in the country knows what I look like. I think it could work. What do you think?” She possessed a new energy, one full of hope and anticipation. Abigail awaited his answer, begging for acceptance and a pat on the head.

“Now, Abigail, you know why that would be impossible. You have sensitive information that would be detrimental to not only yourself, if the information is somehow extracted from you.”

“Oh, you mean the fact that I know your little secret, huh?” She was angry, vindictive, a typical adolescent, longing for freedom from her fetters yet denied that privilege. 

Hannibal gave her a fond smile. “Yes, there is that, but your hands are not clean, either. You cannot change your past actions. They have been life-altering and you are responsible for them. Running off would mean abandoning any and all safety nets that Ms. Bloom, Mr. Graham, and myself have constructed for you. On your own, you would quite foolishly be throwing yourself into the lion’s den.” Hannibal elegantly slices the liver of a most irritating salesperson. “Is it this isolation from your peers the reason behind your desire to leave and start a new life?”

Abigail shrugged as she looked down at her plate. “I just miss going to school, hanging out with friends, dealing with normal teen problems like boys and borrowing the car on a Friday night.” She looked up at Hannibal, the look in her eyes revealing vulnerability and desperation. “I want to be normal again.”

“And you believe living somewhere else would accomplish this?”

“Ugh, it’s something. At least I’d have a chance. I feel like I’m stuck here, forced to put on a face…”

Hannibal allowed the silence to hang for moment before speaking. “You would put your life and others in jeopardy for this small chance?” Abigail had been informed of Will Graham’s knowledge of the man’s accidental death in her former home and its concealment, which brought a new gravity to their secret.

“I don’t know. I feel trapped. And it’s because I don’t know what other options I have out there is what makes me want to do it.”

“You’re a bright young woman, Abigail. Your thirst for new experiences and opportunities is normal. If you so choose to go out on your own, I believe you have the right. I only ask of you to be aware of the possible dangers in which you may be putting yourself.”

Hannibal smiled before bringing a forkful of meat to his lips.  
\--  
Hannibal makes a phone call, untraceable, to one of Hobbs’ victims’ parents. They run Abigail over with their car, keep driving, then completely dismantle the car. Chop shop? Either way, Hannibal knew the plan and was happy with himself.   
\--

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Will began as he entered Hannibal’s office. “She had so much potential. I felt as if Abigail was improving, moving on from . . . from what Hobbes put her through. 

“You saved Abigail’s life and gained a sense of responsibility and protectiveness over her. You became a surrogate father. It makes sense that you would mourn her much like any parent would a child.”

“How about you, then, since you’re her other surrogate father?”

“I am coping. Despite having the knowledge to counsel others in their time of need or crisis, it is quite a challenge to take my own advice,” Hannibal explained with a wry smile. “I’ve discussed my feelings of loss to my psychiatrist. I reflect on the relationship and memories Abigail and I shared and accept that she does not occupy this world any longer. I am also dealing with feelings of regret, thinking that if I had done something, such as promise her to stop escaping the hospital ward, then maybe she would not have died that night.” He paused. “Only retrospective wishes, of course. Mourning is a process. We all will eventually find the light, though, for now, we can only grope the walls for the exit from within the dark tunnel.”

\--

“How have you been sleeping, Will?” 

“Oh, are you in doctor mode now?”

“Not particularly. I only noticed that you no longer have circles under your eyes. Has the frequency of your nightmares and sleepwalking decreased?”

Will looked uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been telling you everything, about the nightmares, I mean.” He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “It seems so stupid now.”

“Will, everyone is allowed some sector of privacy, a sanctuary of your own where you can keep whatever you like safely tucked away, even from the reach of concerned psychiatrist friends,” Hannibal added with a small, playful grin.

He smiled and released a short, dry laugh. “I guess that’s true.” Will rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses. With a sigh, he continued, “After the, uh. After I took out Hobbs, I started having nightmares about him. At first it was a flashback of the incident, I’m holding Abigail’s bleeding neck. Then he’s leaning against the cabinet, looking at me as he’s dying there, asking if I like it. He wants to know if I enjoy the act of killing, something that he took with an active satisfaction; as if my feelings of right and justice are actually twisted into the pleasure of taking a life.”

“What did you feel, Will?”

“Well, not that. My success of stopping Hobbs and reaching Abigail in time made me feel good, like a hero, but Hobbs’ words made an impression on me. I worry that, at one time or another, I am going to kill a criminal and that my feelings will change, turn darker, and I’ll be no better than Hobbs.”

“What else happens in these nightmares?”

“Well, they progressed to a point where I’d have them during the day. I’d be working a case and Hobbs would appear while I analyzed the crime scene, or I’d hallucinate seeing him at the rifle range. 

“If you were so worried about these happenings, why are you revealing them to me now?”

“It’s because they’ve stopped. Yes, I do have nights when I wake from a nightmare in a cold sweat, but it’s no longer about Hobbs, the shrike, any of that.”

“And why do you think these manifestations of your subconscious disappeared?”

“It sounds terrible, but Abigail’s death. I hadn’t noticed it until a few weeks later, but there is no other event I could think of that could correlate with this change in my nightmares.”

“There is no reason to feel guilt, Will. Abigail’s life and death were both tragic. You saved her life after Hobbs’s attempt to end it. You did that. Unfortunately, the life she would lead - with the media portrayals of her family, the death threats, social isolation, and the incident with Mr. (dead guy) - became too much of a burden for one young woman to bear.” Hannibal paused. “You did your best, Will. I believe your efforts, along with Alana’s and my own, made the best of her situation.”

“I guess you’re right.” 

“But there is something that still bothers you.”

“I- I don’t know, a sense of relief?”

“You feel relief?”

“Yes. And I’m not sure why, which makes matters worse.”

Hannibal appeared to reflect for a moment. “It is possible you feel this way because Abigail’s death means that you no longer have to lie to Jack Crawford or cover up the information regarding (dead guy’s) end?”

Will, still looking off toward the right, nodded slightly.

“You are not alone, Will. I was the one who assisted her in disposing of the body. I went against my moral judgment to help a troubled girl take what she could from what remained of her life. Now that she is gone, I both mourn her and feel relief that the secret we shared will never have the opportunity to surface. 

“What you are feeling does not make you a monster, it makes you human. You know that, despite all the humanitarian tendencies that we possess, our instincts still have us looking after the best interests of number one.” 

Will didn’t say anything, but continued to look towards the floor.


End file.
